Trial By Fire
by EarthBound Cat
Summary: Princess Marth has grown up hearing the tales of her ancestors, Chrom and Lucina. A history buff, she embraced it. But what happens to this young princess, oblivious to the ways of war, when she ends up living the past? Rated T to be safe. On temporary hiatus for doing research.
1. Chapter 1

I press my forehead against the cool window, watching the rain come down, drops hitting the window with audible _plinks_. The courtyard is soaked, mud covering the ground. I sighed, leaning back. Rainy afternoons- the bane of my existence. I blankly stare at my reflection in the dreary window.

I have straight, shoulder length, red hair and gray eyes, a heart-shaped face, and freckles. My most remarkable feature is on my right hand- my Brand.

I suppose I should explain myself, shouldn't I? My name is Marth. Marth the 3rd, princess of the kingdom of Ylisse. You've probably heard of my namesake. If you haven't, you probably live under a rock. Or in some other kingdom. I don't know. Marth, the Hero-King, and all that. Well, his bloodline is still going strong, the most recent descendants being my brother Tristian and me. Tristian is the oldest, and in line for the throne. He's 16. I'm 14.

I have a passion for the fine arts- specifically, song and dance. I'm not so great with most school subjects, though I do have a fondness for history. Unfortunately, it takes me _forever_ to read any history book I come across. It's embarrassing, really. There's so much to be learned from the past! I'm most intrigued by my own family history, but I generally enjoy most topics.

I sigh again, bored. I do technically _have_ something I could be doing - my math homework. My tutor keeps telling me how behind I am... But, being the reasonable person I am, I am going to procrastinate. I stand up, stretching. Perhaps I could go attempt to read my newest history book - it's about the reign of Exalt Chrom. Such a fascinating period in time...I begin walking towards my room, which is where I think I left my book. I walk down a long corridor, and pause briefly. Should I do my work? I really don't want to... I shake my head and continue walking, up a flight of stairs, and enter my room.

I sit down on my bed, pulling my book close. I open it, and begin to read. Mouthing the words, I trace each line with my finger slowly. This book uses plenty of flowery language- it's hard to understand, and makes reading slow. But when I can understand it, it's so vivid in my mind...I can almost feel the sun on my back and hear the footsteps as the army marches. I yawn slightly. I wish it was sunny right now. If it was, I could be out with my best friend, Sunne, in the courtyard or something. I admit, as a princess, I'm not exactly let out much. But Sunne has been my friend for years. She's a taguel, and is pretty cool, in addition to being pretty smart. She's awesome.

Ugh, there I am getting distracted again! This is probably the reason I struggle so much with reading...I can't focus for anything! I resume reading, occasionally brushing a lock of red hair out of my face. After a bit, I find my attention wavering again. The rain is making me sleepy... I find myself slowly giving in the drowsiness, drifting to sleep.

* * *

When I next wake, I find I am no longer in my bed. Or even inside, for that matter. Bright sunlight falls over me, and I'm in a field. I stand up, dazed. I must be dreaming...what is it called, when you're aware you're dreaming? Oh, yes...Lucid dreaming.

I begin walking, curious as to where this dream will take me. The grass sways in a gentle wind, looking amber in the light. It must be near evening, as the sun is near the west. Everything is so peaceful...I keep walking, brushing some grass off my jeans. There's absolutely no one around me, and I don't hear any noise from roads or cars. I come to the end of the field after about five minutes, and look around. I don't recognize this place, but it looks like something straight out of a scenic calendar. I see a pine forest ahead, and start heading there. I breathe in the rich, pine scent. This sure is a vivid dream...and it's all so peaceful.

I walk through the forest, my shoes making indents in the muddy ground. Sunlight filters through the branches, casting shadows over the foliage. This is so vivid for a dream, even a lucid one. I can feel _everything._ A slight wind lifts my hair, but it's not enough to sway the large branches overhead. Sunne would love this place. She's the outdoorsy type- the kind of person you'd find on camping trips and on miles-long hikes. I continue my wanderings for a while more, wondering if I'll wake before reaching the end of the forest.

Just as I'm wondering that, I can see the end in sight. Pushing through some ferns, I exit the woods. The sun is very low in the sky, almost night now. I can see the faintest glimmer of stars in the sky. I never can see stars normally, living in Ylisstol. The city lights stop that, with the palace being in the heart of the city. I look around at my surroundings now. A small town is on the horizon, and not a modern one, by the looks of it. It looks rustic, like something out of a history book. _A history book_...I was reading one when I fell asleep. That would explain this small, quaint atmosphere, perhaps. I start to head for the town when I hear something behind me. A moment later, a cold thing touches my neck. Whatever it is, it's sharp. Can you die in a dream? I really don't want to find out.

"Well, whadda we 'ave 'ere?" A cold voice sounds behind me. I stand, petrified. Looks like this dream has just turned into a nightmare...

"We gots a little girl!" Another voice laughs. "But whats is she wearing?"

I turn my head ever so slightly to see who's threatening me. A scruffy man, in rags, is the only one I can see. He seems to be the second to speak. He has a ragged, black beard, and a heavily scarred face. He's holding an axe. I can't see the one holding the cold metal to my neck.

"I dunno, Girol...but we could still make good gold from her. The slave trade's boomin'." The one I can't see answers.

"You, girl! Start walkin'!" The one I can see, apparently named Girol, orders. I begin to walk, shaking. Should I try running? As if reading my mind, he answers, "And don't you try nuffin', girl! I've got an axe that could slice your pretty neck right open!"

We walk in stony silence for a bit. _Wake up,_ I tell myself. _Wake up. WAKE UP._ But it's no use. I don't wake up.

I'm about to abandon hope when I hear a shout from the distance.

"Unhand her at once!"

* * *

 **Hey, guys! EBC here with a new story, Trial By Fire! I know I've been gone a long time, but I hope you guys like this. Tell me your thoughts so far in the reviews! Questions, comments, suggestions? Do tell! I'm really nervous about this, and I really hope people like it! I know this chapter is short, but it'll get longer, I promise.**

 **-EBC**


	2. Chapter 2

My captors seem just as startled as I am by the newcomers, who come into our line of sight. I can barely stifle a gasp.

Straight out of a picture from a history book stands three of the Shepherds. _Chrom's Shepherds._ The legendary heroes of the past. I can recognize Stahl, the Viridian Knight, in the lead. He seems to be the one who shouted. He raises a sword in a threatening manner.

"You best release her right now, or you'll find our weapons pierced right through you!" Stahl remarks coolly. His companions hold up their weapons, too. I think one of them is Ricken, judging from his youthful appearance and tome. The other...is that Cordelia? It must be, judging from the Pegasus she rides, and her red hair.

Girol holds up an axe. "Bring it, you scumbags!" His companion draws a sword, and I'm shoved to my knees. Stahl lunges towards Girol on his horse, swinging his sword as Girol strikes with his axe. Ricken shoots a powerful fireball straight at my other captor. Cordelia suddenly darts forward, and I find her midair in front of me.

"Come here!" She says over the noise of the battle around us. I start to stand, but Girol lunges towards me, axe in hand.

"Oh no you don't, little girl!" He cackles, almost striking me with his blade. I fall over with a cry of fear. Stahl takes advantage of Girol momentarily turning his back to strike with his sword. Girol roars in pain and outrage, and blindly swings his axe, striking me. Real pain floods through me as I see blood begin to stain my shirt. It hurts like nothing I've ever felt before.

Suddenly, I'm starting to think this isn't a dream. Maybe it's the pain and the blood now covering me that really causes this to sink in, but the sheer panic makes everything worse.

While Girol is occupied, Cordelia gets off and scoops me up. Climbing back on her pegasus, she turns to me. "Hang on, we're going to get you help."

Ricken now turns to Girol, double teaming him with Stahl. I spot Girol's companion lying motionless in the grass. Girol soon falls too, with a groan and a low curse, before becoming silent. Stahl trots over to speak to Cordelia and I, Ricken in his wake.

"Are you all right?" He asks with a tilt of his head. "Aside from the wound he gave you while you were here?"

"No o-other wounds..." I mumble.

"Good. Can you tell me your name? We're going to take you back to our camp to get healed, alright?" Stahl says softly.

"M-Marth. My n-name is Marth." I manage. The pain is getting worse.

"Did she say _Marth_?" Ricken questions.

"Yes. She did." Cordelia answers him. "And...look at her hand."

"That's...the Brand of the Exalt!" Stahl says softly. He turns to me. "You know there are dire consequences when one impersonates royalty." He says in a more serious tone.

"N-not...faking...I...I am...r-royalty..." I mumble through the pain. "I...I'm f-from the future."

The three Shepherds exchange looks.

"We'll talk about this with Chrom." Stahl finally speaks. "Right now, you need treatment." With that, we begin heading to the Shepherds' camp.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 here! Again, it's short, but enjoy. I'd like to thank WholeWheatBeats for reviewing. You had so many kind words for me!**

 **-EBC**


	3. Chapter 3

I must have blacked out at some point, because when I open up my eyes, my wounds are healed and I'm in a tent. I sit up, and much to my surprise, don't feel any pain. I notice a silvery staff in the ground. A healing staff! Those are really rare nowadays, but in this time period...

"Oh, you're awake!" A new voice greets me. I turn around and my eyes go wide. I should expect this, being back in time, but it still shocks me. The boy has blue hair and a black tactician's robe. Morgan, the second child to Exalt Chrom, and might I add, my direct ancestor. You see, I'm not actually descended from Lucina, but from Morgan. Lucina's line actually died out.

"Aunt Lissa fixed you up. I was told to wait with you until you woke up, then go get Father." Morgan informs me. "Stahl brought you here, but said you were talking about being from the future! I wouldn't know - I lost my memories - but Lucina said she didn't recognize you from the future..."

"I...I'm a little beyond her time." I say quietly. A little...try hundreds of years.

Morgan gives a small shrug. "I'm going to get Father now. Stay here, ok?"

I mutely nod. The boy tactician turns away and exits the tent.

Oh boy...I'm about to talk to _Chrom himself._ With my luck, I'll say something stupid or offensive and get myself killed by my own relative. What is he even like? The history books always tell of his great courage and skills in battle, but as a person, who is he?

...Guess I'll find out in a moment.

After sitting for a few minutes, Morgan returns, with two new people in tow. Chrom and Lucina...seeing these two legends now in the tent with me makes me want to shrivel up. How can I, as a princess, ever live up to them? I'm never even going to be Exalt! Unless something happened to Tristian, but I don't even want to think about that...

Speaking of Tristian, seeing Chrom shocks me with how much he looks like my brother. They have the same messy blue hair, same build, and same way of looking at you...

Chrom speaks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"So you claim to come from the future... _Marth..._ We've heard this before." He speaks, leaning forward. I shift, feeling uncomfortable.

"Y-yes, sir. I c-can explain!" I manage, my voice betraying me as it squeaks.

"You best be able to! The Brand is sacred to House Ylisse." Lucina speaks, looking me straight in the eyes so I can see hers.

"I come from the far distant future. A time when swords are no longer used, and you are just a legend from a book." I murmur, somehow controlling my voice. "But I read about you, my ancestors, and the great things you've done. I want to be like you...worthy of my Brand. I...I don't know how I can prove to you what I am. But I am not lying."

"Father..." Morgan pipes up. "She looks like Mother. Look at her hair, and eyes!" I feel a wave of gratefulness come over me. He believes me...?

"Lots of people have red hair, Morgan." Chrom says, but he seems to be studying me. I shift some more, staring at the floor.

Finally, he speaks again. "I need to consult Hidenori about this. Morgan, take her to get something to eat for now. Lucina, come with me." With that, he turns and exits the tent, cape swishing behind him as his daughter follows closely behind. Morgan glances over at me.

"Alright, I'll take you to the dining area. Though I really hope you don't have taste buds, because Sully's cooking tonight, with her daughter Kjelle." Morgan says, wincing visibly.

I take that as a bad sign.

* * *

Moments later, I am staring at the strange, grayish-orange substance in my bowl. It doesn't look like any food I've ever seen... In fact, I am wondering if it's even edible. Morgan sits next to me, and seems to be wondering the same thing. A horrid stench lingers in the air.

The tactician seems to notice my look. "It's, uh, not so bad...if you just swallow fast...though you may end up with mild stomach pain..."

I hesitantly take a bite and gag at once. It smells and looks better than it tastes, apparently. Which should give you a bit of an idea of how it tastes. Ugh...my stomach wants to force itself back up my throat.

Morgan pushes away his bowl. "I'm just going to wait until tomorrow morning to eat. I take it you're the same way, Marth."

"As am I."

Morgan and I both jump. Somehow, neither of us noticed the knight in huge armor sitting next to us. His face is blank, as though he's used to this.

"Oh, hello, Kellam." Morgan greets him. "I didn't see you there!"

Kellam sighs. "I've been talking to you for a few minutes now, but I'm not surprised. Did you call this person "Marth"?"

"Yep. It appears we have another Marth from the future here. That's what she told us, anyway. Father and Mother are discussing it." Morgan informs him, tilting his head.

Kellam shrugs. "Well, it's none of my business necessarily, I suppose. What is my business is the amount of people going to be sick from my wife's cooking..."

"Sully is a great warrior, but she is not meant to cook!" Morgan agrees. The conversation is broken as Chrom approaches us.

"We need to talk to you." He addresses me, blue eyes unreadable. I nod and stand. Morgan starts to get up, but Chrom motions for him to stay put. We turn away walking at a brisk pace to a different tent.

Once we enter, I see another tactician, a woman with red hair and sharp gray eyes. Hidenori, Queen of Ylisse, wife of Chrom, and an absolute master tactician. I feel intimidated just being in her presence.

"You have no way to justify your claims of being from the future. You could very well be an imposter." Chrom speaks, eyes never leaving me. "But, we have no way to disprove you, either. So we have reached a decision."

"Join us and prove your worth as a true member of House Ylisse in battle. Fight with our army. Show your true worth." Hidenori speaks. "If you can overcome this trial by fire, we will believe you. If not..." She doesn't speak, but I get the implied message.

"I...I'm not trained for war." I manage, looking back and forth between them.

"We'll teach you how to fight." Chrom speaks. "Since you claim to no longer do so in the future. Will you join us and prove yourself? Or will you suffer the consequences of impersonating the royal family?"

I don't have much of a choice, but I make myself speak. "Yes, I will join you."

Hidenori nods, but her eyes are still narrowed. "Very well. You will need a teacher. As I see it, there is only one person who should train you in the fighting style of House Ylisse. Lucina," She turns to her daughter, "She is your responsibility now to train."

* * *

 **Hey guys! So, here's a new chapter! A few things to note...**

 **There are shippings, as you can see. So far, you've only seen Kellam and Sully and Hidenori and Chrom, but I already have everyone planned. You can guess my ships if you want, though.**

 **Hidenori is my avatar in Awakening. I'm using her instead of the default Robin. I like to headcannon that her red hair passed on along with Chrom's blue hair.**

 **I would really appreciate reviews! Thank you for reviewing so far and following!**

 **-EBC.**


	4. Chapter 4

Lucina is intently studying me. I shift under her piercing blue gaze.

After a moment, she speaks. "You're going to need proper clothes for battle, you know. Armor will keep you alive on the battlefield." Turning around, she beckons me to follow, so I do. We exit the tent, heading to a different tent now. Lucina glances at me again. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen." I answer her. Lucina looks surprised.

"You're tall for your age." She remarks. "We might be around the same height. Perhaps you can use some of my armor." As we enter the tent, Lucina kneels down and opens a trunk. She scoops something out of it. "Try this." The swordswoman tells me. She exits the tent.

The clothes and armor are a smoky gray, almost black. It looks very similar to Lucina's. _Well, duh, genius. It's hers._ My brain reminds me. I give a grunt of annoyance at my own sarcastic thoughts and dress myself in these new clothes, feeling for all the world like a child in a play. The sleeves are slightly too long, but I roll them up. I leave the tent.

Lucina gives an approving nod at seeing my clothes. "Good. They fit. You look like a proper swordswoman now. Maybe you'll even end up a decent fighter. You _are_ of House Ylisse, assuming you really aren't lying. Perhaps you'd be willing to try some sword techniques?"

"R-right now?" I ask. It's gotten dark out, the sun no longer even faintly seen.

"Why not?" Lucina counters. "There's plenty of light in camp. Let's see about getting you a sword."

* * *

So much for the blood of House Ylisse being in me.

I appear to have little talent for the sword, I've found over the past three days. I've yet to meet most of the Shepherds though, either. Lucina has been training me almost nonstop for the past few days, and we're generally not around other people. But has that practice done any good to prove my royal blood?

Of course not. That would be too _convenient_ for fate. No, we're going down the long, grueling road.

And there I was getting distracted again, as Lucina knocks my blade away from me yet again with an exasperated sigh.

"Marth, if you want to stay alive on the battlefield, I recommend you _pay attention!_ " She chastises, a frustrated look in her blue eyes. "You're my responsibility, and I can't let you die! You seem to at least be fast...Pick up your sword and try blocking again."

I feel bad that Lucina has deal with me. We've already tried several weapons, and the only one I have been even slightly okay with was a sword. I'm pretty good with the movements, at least. I pick up my sword and prepare for Lucina to come at me again.

The swordswoman suddenly lunges towards me, and I clumsily manage to stop her blade, steel against steel. Lucina gives a nod of approval. "Again."

We go through this several times, but that seems to have been my best attempt. It's clear that if I was sent into battle, I'd die.

Lucina finally turns away, sheathing her sword. She takes a long, deep breath. "Go take a break, Marth." The disappointment and frustration in her voice makes me feel ashamed, and I quickly leave.

* * *

Morgan spends dinner trying to cheer me up. "You'll get it eventually! I mean, it took all of us time to get great at fighting. Look at Donnel! Apparently, when he first joined up, he was one of the weakest in the army. Now he's really strong!" The blue haired tactician frowns when I still don't seem cheered up. Suddenly, he brightens again. "You should meet some of my friends! You've been here three days and you still haven't met many people. Come on!" Morgan grabs my hand and drags me over to where a boy and two girls are sitting.

"Hey, Noire, Owain, Cynthia! Have you guys met Marth yet?" Morgan says with a bright smile.

"We have not! Fair maiden, I have heard of you though! You also have the blood of heroes in your veins - DOWN, SWORD HAND! It senses our shared blood!" The brown haired boy exclaims dramatically, nearly falling out of his chair. I back away very slightly. Owain is my relative also - Lissa and Frederick's son. No one seems to know what happened to his line. Most think his children died out, if he had any. He may have never even married.

The white haired, pigtailed girl giggles at Owain's shenanigans. "Nice to meet you, Marth! I'm Cynthia."

"A-and I'm N-Noire." The other girl stutters out.

"How are you liking being in the Shepherds?" Cynthia asks eagerly. "I personally love it!"

"Well, I'm, uh, not very good at fighting." I mumble.

"D-don't worry...I'm not very good either. I'm just a coward." Noire says quietly, dipping her head.

"Don't say that, Noire! You try your best! And you're doing your best too, Marth." Morgan says kindly to us.

"Besides, your greatness is clearly just waiting to burst out, like a sea of almighty rage!" Owain adamantly declares, jumping on his chair, much to the disturbance of onlookers. "You will tear apart your foes, and bring glory to our family! We'll all be heroes!"

Cynthia and Morgan laugh, and I crack a smile. Noire seems simply alarmed by Owain's shouting. But it does honestly make me feel a bit better.

* * *

Later that night, as I'm crossing the camp to where I sleep, I hear voices. Lucina and Chrom's.

"Father, it's hopeless! She'll die as soon as she even steps on the battlefield!" Lucina insists. "There's no way she can be related to us. She must be lying."

"We still have yet to see, Lucina. She may surprise us." Chrom's voice sounds unsure though...

"I'm doing the best I can, but she simply seems to lack any talent..."

I turn away, not wanting to hear more.

Great. Now I feel like even more of a failure.

* * *

 **Hey guys! Thanks for your time reading this, and thanks for the follows and favorites!**

 **-EBC**


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up the next morning, still discouraged. I don't eat breakfast - I don't really feel up to facing Morgan's upbeat attitude today. I dully trudge to where I meet Lucina for battle training. Why do I even bother, though? It's clear my ancestor doesn't have any faith in me. I sigh and sit on a tree stump, waiting for her. Minutes pass. Where is Lucina? She hasn't given up on me completely, has she?

After a bit, my mentor arrives, smiling. Uh oh...she probably just got the okay from Chrom to behead me or something. Why else would she look so happy? It's not like I'm any particular joy to her.

"Good morning, Marth." She greets, meeting my eyes. "I believe I may have found a solution to your sword problem. Tell me, is your blade heavy to you?"

I blink, surprised. "Well, uh, yeah." It's made of iron, after all. It hurts my arms sometimes to swing it.

"I have a different blade for you to try." Lucina informs me, drawing a regal blade from its sheath. It's absolutely beautiful. The steel shines in the watery morning sun, the gold of the hilt glittering. It's much more slender than any sword I've seem around here before. Something about it seems almost noble.

"This is a rapier." Lucina says, tracing the golden hilt lightly with her fingertips. "It has long been used by House Ylisse, especially among Lords. I think it might be easier for you to handle."

I take a hold of the sword. It feels...well, _right,_ to use this.

"Want to give it a try?" Lucina says, eyes sparkling.

I nod eagerly. "Yeah, let's do this." My resolve returned, I take a ready stance. Lucina swings her blade, and I'm able to nullify the strike with the rapier. A bit clumsily, yes, but who cares? I actually blocked! It's a lot easier with a lighter blade like this.

Lucina nods in approval. "Yes! Just like that. Let's keep working on blocking."

We go through the routine multiple times. Although I still mess up a bit, I'm already showing signs of improving. My blocking grows smoother the more we practice. Finally, Lucina lowers her sword and gives me an approving smile. "It seems you finally got the hang of blocking, Marth. Shall we attempt countering?"

"I think I could try that." I agree, my heart feeling ready to burst with pride from her approval.

"Alright. Countering starts off similar to blocking." Lucina blocks with her sword as an example. "There's a brief window of opportunity upon blocking to turn your strength onto them and get in a hit like this." The swordswoman demonstrates, with me watching closely. "Ready to try?"

We spend the morning practicing. I'm not perfect at countering, but I'm not abysmal either.

It seems there might be some hope for me after all.

* * *

Morgan is very pleased when he finds out I'm fairing better.

"I knew you'd get it!" He exclaims, bouncing on his heels. We're taking a walk together in a nearby field. The mid-afternoon light gleams overhead as we swish through the grass. "You just needed to find something that worked! I mean, I thought you would have to use a different weapon, but you found a sword that works!"

"Lucina says I won't be ready for battle for a few days still, though." I tell Morgan. My blue-haired companion smiles.

"Well, of course. You probably will just get sent on small missions at first - I haven't even been in any major battles yet! Mother wants me to become a Grandmaster first. But when I do, I'm going to fight on the front lines!" Morgan informs me with a gleam in his eye. "I'll be the best tactician ever seen!"

"I have no doubt." I say with a small laugh, Morgan's enthusiasm rubbing off on me. "I hope I'll be an okay fighter."

"Of course you will!" Morgan says confidently. "You're being trained by my older sister, and she's the best teacher!"

"You and Lucina get along pretty well, huh?" I reply.

"Yeah! Lucina's the best sister ever. She always watches out for me, no matter what, and is always willing to talk to me." Morgan says with a bright smile. "I wish I remembered what it was like in the future with her..." His smile dims a bit. It quickly returns as he turns to me, however.

"What about you, Marth? Do you have siblings?"

"I have an older brother, Tristian." I tell him, brushing red hair out of my face. "We don't spend much time together, though."

"You should." Morgan says seriously. "When everyone else is gone, you'll always have your family. Never take them for granted." I'm slightly taken aback by how serious he sounds, but I nod. I'll remember that.

After that, the mostly lighthearted chit-chat resumes. After a while, though, I suddenly stop.

"Morgan...how long have we been walking?" I question.

The blue haired tactician stops. "Umm, I guess a few...hours?"

"Do you know where we are?"

"...No."

We look at each other helplessly for a moment, before Morgan speaks again. "Well...I guess we could try turning back..."

"We turned multiple times. Do you remember the turns?" I ask nervously.

Judging by Morgan's mumbled curse, I'll take that as a _no._

"Well, I guess we can just try and find our way back." I sigh, turning around. We walk...and walk...and somehow end up even more lost.

And fate just has to make things worse, too. A group of people is up ahead. Four of them...five...eight. And they don't look friendly.

"Oh look, two kids, all alone." One says with a smirk, a blonde ponytailed man. "You know what happens to kids all alone? They get kidnapped and sold into slavery."

Dear Naga, I'm getting _really_ tired of people trying to sell me into slavery...

Morgan hisses in my ear. "We've got to fight!"

I lower my hand to get my rapier...but discover it's not there. You've got to be kidding me. Eight violent thugs and I don't even have a sword! I left it in camp! Following Morgan's example, I mumble a curse.

Morgan glances at me, his look voicing my thoughts. "Well, just stay behind me!"

The following fight is pathetic. Morgan and I don't stand a chance. He holds them off for a few minutes with Elfire, but he is quickly subdued. Morgan's tome is ripped away, and we find ourselves being tied up. Before they do, Morgan pulls down my sleeves discreetly.

"Don't let them see your Brand!" He hisses almost inaudibly.

We're unceremoniously thrown into the back of a wagon, into a cage. The blonde man locks our cage, and we feel the wagon start to move. It's quite a while before Morgan dares to speak.

"You've got to make sure to hide your Brand. There's a lot of...well, hatred for Ylissean royalty around here. Unless they pull off my boot, I'm in no danger of them seeing mine." Morgan mutters very quietly.

"You have a Brand?" I blink, surprised. Somehow, I thought Morgan was never born with it, like Lissa.

"Yes. On my ankle." Morgan replies back quietly as we're jostled by the bumpy wagon.

"How are we going to get out of here?" I ask him. He's a tactician...surely he has some great idea?

Morgan hugs hid knees to his chest. "I don't know..." All of his usual upbeat attitude is gone, replaced by a discouraged gloom. "I must be the worst tactician ever...I don't know what to do!" He looks up at me, panic shining in his gray eyes.

"Ay, keep it down!" A gruff, angry voice yells at us. "Or you'll be dead before sunrise!"

Morgan and I are silent after that, the gloom thick around us.

* * *

The wagon stops hours later, when it's too dark to travel. We can hear the ruffians making camp for the night. The scent of meat fills the air, and my stomach growls in longing. I skipped breakfast, so I haven't eaten all day. Morgan looks equally miserable.

Raucous laughter rings out. I really miss the Shepherds. It's strange how I'm getting used to this lifestyle. Being with comrades is really nice...much nicer than being held prisoner by bandits.

In a little while, the laughter and talking fades as the barbarians go to bed. Morgan and I are clearly not getting anything to eat.

We slump in the cage. Morgan falls asleep after a bit, snoring softly. I'm too hungry, and, well, homesick to fall asleep. I'm never taking my amazing bed for granted again! In fact, I'm appreciating my palace life a lot more now that I have to be pent up in a cage.

As I'm about to resign myself to the fact I'm not getting any sleep, a voice hisses out from the darkness.

"I can get you and him out of here, but you'll have to trust me."

* * *

 **Who is this mysterious person? That, my dear readers, is up to you! PM me your OC (Guests, leave it in the reviews) and I will pick the one I like best! Give me a name, description, backstory, and personality. I will not accept Mary-Sues. The winner will be featured in the next chapter, and possibly later on. I will credit you, of course!**

 **Please continue reviewing!**

 **-EBC**


	6. Chapter 6

From the darkness, a man stares back at me. He's not too old, but definitely older than me. He's older than Morgan too. He appears almost sickly with how thin he is, as though a stray breeze might knock him over. But his green eyes meet mine, looking as though he's seen many things. He seems to favor black and white colours on his clothes, I note, wearing a black shirt with a white duster covering him. He has medium length brown hair as well.

"Who...who are you?" I finally hiss out, realizing I've been gawking.

"My name is Verdan." He says quietly. "My partner and I have come to rescue you two, but you've got to stay quiet." He pulls out a tome - some sort of fire magic - and begins searing the lock. Morgan is finally startled by the noise.

"Wha...wha's goin' on?" He mumbles, half asleep, as he rubs at his eyes. I shush him quickly.

"We're being rescued. Stay quiet." I mutter. Strangely, he doesn't object, or ask how we know we can trust whoever is rescuing us. I guess Morgan's too tired to be wary.

The charred lock falls, half melted. Verdan opens the cage, and motions for us to get up. Morgan scrambles up, no longer looking as sleepy. I follow quickly after him. Verdan presses a gloved finger to his lips to remind us to be silent, pausing briefly. He nods after a moment. The coast is clear. Trying to be quieter than I've ever been before, we slip out of the wagon. Verdan helps Morgan down, then offers his hand to me. I take it, and I clumsily stumble down with a small yelp, praying to Naga I didn't just wake up every bandit from here to the Shepherds' camp with the noise. Morgan shakes his head at me.

Cringing at my so-called "stealth", I continue after the males as we resume walking. After a moment, we see someone else in the dark. Oh no, please tell me I didn't give us away...

"Dawn." Verdan greets, nodding at her. "I got them."

Dawn raises an eyebrow. Like Verdan, she has green eyes, though hers have flecks of blue in them. She also has light brown hair which is held in a topknot on her head. Judging by her clothes and sword, she seems to be a mercenary. "Was that you squealing, Verdan?" She remarks dryly.

"No, that was me." I mutter quietly. "Sorry."

Dawn's eyes soften a bit as she looks at me. "It's fine." She murmurs. "Are you two alright? Any injuries?"

"I'm fine, miss." Morgan replies. He glances over at me.

"I'm not hurt." I also answer. Not really, anyway. Morgan tried to protect me as much as he could during the fight.

Verdan studies Morgan intently. "You're injured. Was there a fight?"

"Yes. I tried to protect us, but I couldn't. They beat me and took my tome." Morgan mumbles. "I failed."

Dawn's eyes flash, and she puts her hand on Morgan's shoulder. "It's not your fault. You two are just kids. Don't blame yourself, it _wasn't your fault._ " The way she speaks makes me wonder if she has something that haunts her...that she maybe used to blame herself for.

"You protected me..." I remind my ancestor. "I wasn't hurt." Morgan sighs and smiles faintly.

"It guess you're right." He says quietly.

"We need to go." Verdan reminds us, beckoning us with his hand. The four of us begin to hurry in the dark, when we hear shouting.

"They're gone! They're gone!"

Verdan curses under his breath. He turns to us. "Can you two fight? Are you strong enough?"

"Yes, sir." Morgan informs him, standing straight up. Verdan hands him a tome - some sort of lightning magic. He looks at me expectantly. I swallow and nod.

"I...I've only used swords, though." I mumble, thinking back to my lessons with Lucina. I wish I had my rapier. Then I would be somewhat helpful. Dawn hands me the sword from her side - a heavy iron blade, like I originally practiced with. I gape at her. "But...what are you going to use?"

Dawn sighs, and pulls out a bow, made of beautiful silver. "This." She mutters. "I don't like using it, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

"There they are!" The blonde ponytailed man from before runs out, gripping an axe. His pale eyes narrow in hatred as he sees Dawn and Verdan. "You little runts! How dare you take our prisoners?"

"We won't allow you to harm children." Dawn snarls, raising her gleaming bow. The rest of the bandits have gathered close now.

"What should we do with them, Coleris?" A woman mounted on a pegasus sneers.

"Good question, Agatha. Kill the older ones and recapture the young. And we're gonna teach them a lesson about trying to escape!" The blonde - apparently named Coleris - grins.

I grip the sword in my hands. It's significantly harder to with my sleeves rolled down, but I remember Morgan's warning. I must not show my Brand.

The bandits charge, and chaos breaks loose. A mage blasts wind magic at me, and I barely dodge. I swing my sword, striking him in the shoulder. Blood sprays across the air. From behind, a knight strikes me with their lance in the leg. I shriek as crimson stains my pants, feeling a bit nauseous from the blood. _Get a grip, Marth!_ I chastise myself angrily. I'm a member of House Ylisse. This is in my veins, the strike of steel and the metallic smell of blood.

...Isn't it?

There's no time to think on it. I'm being double-teamed by the knight and mage. I strike the mage again and clumsily dodge the knight. A blast of lightning strikes the knight down - thanks, Morgan - and the mage yells in fury. Charging at me, he blasts me with his tome. The harsh wind splits apart my skin in cuts as I'm thrown backwards. I pull myself onto my knees, grunting in pain. I've never felt pain like this before. The worst I ever felt before this was when I was seven. Sunne and I were playing in the courtyard, climbing a tree. I climbed onto an unstable branch, and it broke. I broke my leg from the fall. But this...this is worse.

The mage is coming towards me. I won't be able to stand in time, crouched as I am. But a crazy idea comes into my mind. Absolutely insane. But it might be worth a shot. It's a move I saw Lucina practice...an upward slash, like a dolphin jumping out of the water. Lucina told me it was one of the moves used in the fighting style of House Ylisse, the "Dancing Blade" style. I always have been good at dancing, I suppose. It's my only shot.

The mage raises his hand, wind magic swirling wildly as he prepares to strike. With a wild yell, I spring up, raising my blade as I do with all my strength. "Hiyahhh!" The blade pierces through his chest to his neck, blood flying through the night air. The mage screams and falls, gurgling out a curse before going still, staring sightlessly into the dark.

Dear Naga.

 _I just killed someone._

I feel sick, and terrified, and yet...

I feel alive. So. Very. Alive.

This is in my veins and blood. But horror is what will be in my tears.

"Child, are you alright?" Verdan appears next to me. I nod mutely. He doesn't look as though he believes me, but he puts his hand on my shoulder and murmurs, "Stay safe." He disappears once more.

I am a member of House Ylisse.

I have to fight.

For the first time ever, I think I can actually understand how the Hero-King Marth must have felt. Somehow, I don't think he would delight in bloodshed. He'd be like me, feeling remorse with every slash.

But neither of us had or has the option to give up.

I hold my red blade, shuddering. But I stagger back into battle, joining Dawn, who is facing the woman from earlier - Agatha. She rides a black pegasus and holds a tome. A Dark Flier, then.

"Stay back." Dawn warns me, holding her bow. "You're not strong enough for this." I heed her orders, backing away. Agatha blasts fire magic at her. Dawn nimbly dodges, and shoots two silver arrows. Agatha falls with a screech, going silent.

Across the field, Coleris screams in fury as Agatha falls. "How dare you take her life?! How dare you?!" He raises his axe and charges - just to be struck down by twin bolts of lightning. Morgan and Verdan both stand together, tomes open. The bandits scramble as they see their leaders fallen.

"They're too strong! Retreat!"

The four of us are left alone on the bloodied battlefield. Verdan sighs. "We won..."

I slump in relief, exhausted. "I'm so tired..."

"Let's get away from here and set up camp." Dawn suggests, putting away her bow. "Though speaking of which...I don't think we ever got your names. Won't you tell us?"

* * *

 ***Sighs in relief* Finished this chapter!**

 **Congratulations to my TWO OC winners - Verdan Allen and Dawn! Thank you to everyone who entered, I loved all your characters, but these two took the cake! I couldn't decide between them, so I used them both!**

 **Verdan belongs to Matt Cyr.**

 **Dawn belongs to ThatOneFireEmblemFan.**

 **Thank you for your amazing characters!**

 **Random thoughts:**

 **Would anyone be willing to draw a cover for this?**

 **How old do you guys think I am?**

 **Please, PLEASE review! Thank you for your amazing support!**

 **-EBC**


	7. Chapter 7

Morgan responds before I can say a thing. "I'm Jamison, and this is my sister, Mazie." Evidently, we're keeping secrets. But what weirds me out? My middle name is Mazie. I never told Morgan that. How did he know? Maybe he just picked names at random. I mean, there's not any significance in Jamison, is there?

"Jamison and Mazie, huh? Where are you from?" Dawn asks, shifting her bow. "We'll help you get home. It's dangerous for kids. You might be taken again by a different group."

"We're merchants." Morgan lies, glancing at me. "We were getting water when we were taken. I'm sure our father is frantic. Can you take us to the nearest town? That's probably where they are."

"Merchants, huh?" Verdan says. "I think I heard a group of merchants were in town. Where are you from?"

"Oh, uh, Ylisse!" Morgan tells him. He's sweating a little bit.

"Funny. The caravan is from Plegia." Verdan says, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, well, uh..." Morgan looks extremely flustered. His face is red, and he tugs at his robe like he's hot. Some tactician he is. "Our...father is Ylissean. The rest are Plegians."

"Oh, just give it up!" Dawn growls, intimidating Morgan and I. "We're not going to kill you or sell you or whatever you're worried about! We just saved your lives, for the gods' sakes! Now tell me, _Jamison,_ who are you really that you're trying to hide? Or you, _Mazie_?" With a sudden spring, she grabs my hand, still covered by my sleeves. "What are you hiding under there?" She shoves up my sleeve, and my Brand is exposed to the night air. Her eyes grow wide.

Neither one speaks for a moment, before Dawn sputters out, "You're Ylissean _royalty?!_ "

"Yes. Both of us." I mutter in spite of Morgan's dirty look.

"I'm not Ylissean, neither of us are." Verdan says slowly. "But...their Exalt only married three years ago. Their child is only a few months old. Unless...was the former Exalt married? Are you Emmeryn's children? But...wouldn't you have taken the throne? Unless you were too young..."

"Or they could be imposters." Dawn suggests, raising an eyebrow and brushing her hand along her silvery bow. In addition to people trying to sell me into slavery, I'm also getting really, _really_ sick of people accusing me of being an imposter.

"Have a little trust in them, Dawn. Let them explain." Verdan tells his companion softly, eyes examining Morgan and I closely.

Morgan heaves a sigh. "You won't believe is." He mutters, crossing his arms.

"You'd be surprised." Verdan responds.

"I'm the son of Exalt Chrom, Morgan. And no, I have not been born yet. I'm from the future." Morgan tells him. "I have almost no memories of my time before ending up in this time. And this is Marth." He gestures to me. "She's from hundreds of years in the future. She comes from a time where swords are no longer adequate weapons!"

Dawn looks at us like we're crazy, but Verdan seems to ponder what we've said. After a moment, he speaks. "I believe you, prince and princess. After all, my being here is exceptional as well. I'm from the kingdom of Nohr."

"But...Nohr is just a legend!" Morgan protests. "Mother told me about it!" I stay silent. Nohr is very far from Ylisse, or any surrounding countries. It's so far away, it was thought to be another world by the people of this time period. Of course, we know better now. The world is a very big place.

"I assure you, it's as real as you or I." Verdan reassures Morgan. "I came here through the Outrealms." He straightens his duster. "If we're finding the Shepherds, we should get some rest. We can leave tomorrow morning. For now, please, get some rest. You've been through quite the ordeal."

* * *

"Morgan?"

My blue-haired companion looks up as I speak. "Yes, Marth?" It's the next morning. We're eating breakfast before we go. Verdan and Dawn sit quietly nearby, discussing things neither of us can hear.

"Why did you pick the name 'Mazie'?" I ask him, tilting my head to the side like a confused puppy.

"I love that name." Morgan says softly, gray eyes twinkling. "It's what I plan to name my daughter, if I ever have one."

Of course. How did I miss it? We've had at least four Mazies in our family. It probably started with Morgan's child. I make a mental note to myself to verify this once I return home.

...If I ever do.

Verdan stands and looks in our direction. "Are you two ready to go? We've got to get searching for the Shepherds."

"I'm ready." I reply, and shoot a glance at Morgan.

"I'm ready as well." He answers.

The next hour is spent walking. We pass through a grassy field, across a stream, and generally just keep, well, walking. How else can I describe it? There's not much to say, really.

After we've been walking for a while, I speak. "Hey, Dawn. If Verdan is from Nohr, where are you from?"

Dawn sighs and shakes her head. "Plegia." She mutters. "And don't ask me to talk about it." She speeds up to avoid questions until she's a good bit ahead.

Verdan sighs sympathetically. "Her village was slaughtered by soldiers. Her parents were killed on front of her. Dawn isn't even hee real name - it's Lydia. She was desperate to leave anything behind from her past. It's why she hates using that how." He shakes his head. "It would be wise to leave her alone about it. There's nothing in her past but grief."

"I...I didn't know." I say softly. Stupid, insensitive me...

"I know you didn't." Verdan replies. We walk in silence for a moment, before he asks something. "I if I might ask, why do you share the Hero-King's name?"

"Oh...well, there was quite a bit of controversy in the kingdom over my name, actually." I answer, fiddling with my hair. "The people didn't like that I was given such a sacred name - I don't even have his blue hair! But my father was obsessed with history, just like me. He wanted me to have a strong name. And...my birthday is April 21st, one day after...another important Marth."

Verdan and Morgan have been listening intently, nodding. But they're distracted by a call from Dawn.

"The town's just ahead, and it looks like the Shepherds are there, by the soldiers hanging around."

* * *

 **Hey guys! Happy birthday to Marth!**

 **As you can tell, that's why I wanted this chapter out today.**

 **Guys, I'd really, really like some reviews. They motivate me to write, and help me improve. I don't want to beg, but please! It only takes a minute!**

 **-EBC**


	8. Chapter 8

"That's them!" Morgan gives a cry of happiness. "I see Ricken and Nowi up there."

"Lucina is going to be so ticked at me for not having my sword..." I mumble, feeling a bit of dread at the thought of seeing my blue-haired mentor. She's sure to know I left my rapier in camp. Morgan looks puzzled at my remark, tilting his head as he raises an eyebrow. I look at him quizzically. "What? What did I say?"

"...Ticked? What does that mean?" He asks.

"Oh! It means upset." I answer him. "I guess I forgot you wouldn't know some terms from my time."

"Well, I think we shouldn't worry about her. It's Father I'm worried will be _ticked,_ as you say." Morgan mutters, wringing his hands. "We're going to be in _so_ much trouble...but it's better than being sold into slavery..." He suddenly stops. "Actually, Mother can be pretty scary when she's mad...maybe it's worse."

Dawn rolls her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Facing your parents - or great-great something grandparents, in Marth's case - is much better than slavery. Whatever they punish you with, you'll get over it." Verdan nods his agreement.

"Let's get you to the Exalt." He says, adjusting his duster as we walk. We enter the town, and as we do, Ricken, who Morgan pointed out earlier, sees us and rushes over, blue robes fluttering in the wind.

"Prince Morgan! Marth! The Shepherds have been looking everywhere for you two! Do you know how worried everyone has been?! You could have been dead for all we knew, especially since Lucina reported you didn't have a sword with you, Marth!" The mage yells at us. His eyes drift away, and it's as though he just notices Verdan and Dawn. "And who are they?"

"This is Verdan and Dawn. They saved our lives, and brought us back." Morgan replies, gesturing to them as he speaks their names.

"You got into a _life threatening situation?!_ " Ricken's already high voice seems to reach a new octave as he nearly screams at us.

"...Yes." I sigh quietly, looking down at the dirt.

Ricken groans and shakes his head. "Come with me. I'm taking you to Chrom."

* * *

Morgan is absolutely right, we find, after walking into the tent where Chrom waits. He is absolutely _ticked._ One might a stronger word should be used, in fact.

"How on earth," He growls, "Could you be so irresponsible! You get lost, _one of you without a weapon,_ and nearly get captured! You both only have minimal knowledge of combat, and clearly don't have a bit of sense in your heads!"

"Father," Morgan pleads, "I was the one who got us lost. I was the one who even suggested the walk! Marth's only fault here was forgetting her rapier."

Chrom's eyes are dark, almost stormy as he stares his son down. "We are in a _war,_ Morgan. You are both members of the royal family. Suppose one of our enemies had gotten a hold of you. They could have held you hostage, and demanded _anything._ Falchion, the Fire Emblem, even our kingdom." He shakes his head and paces, boots thudding across the floor. And as I see him wring his hands, I see another emotion on his face.

Fear.

He looks up at Morgan, and says quietly, "I can't lose you like I lost Emmeryn. Because I know you would sacrifice yourself in a heartbeat to save any of those things, just as she did." His voice is firm, but brimming with emotion.

What would it be like to be Chrom? Having to lose a sibling like that, and hold the future of the kingdom on your shoulders. To be responsible for all these lives. To guide a country through a tiresome, fiercesome war.

At that moment, I'm glad I'm not going to be Exalt.

Chrom heaves a long, weary sigh. "If you are going to be a tactician, Morgan, you must learn to think ahead. You two have caused a lot of problems. We had all the Shepherds looking for you. If the pair you introduced me to hadn't rescued you, you'd be bound in chains and auctioned off like cattle. You two will not leave camp again. You must always be in the line of sight of a senior Shepherd. You will spend the next two weeks doing any chores necessary - mending clothes, organizing weapons, things like that. I expect you both to carry a weapon at all times. Yes, Morgan," He says as Morgan opens his mouth to speak, "Even in the bathing tents. And Marth...Lucina wishes to speak with you now. She has full authority to place any additional punishment. I am going to speak to your companions now. Go." The swordsman waves us away. We exit the tent as Verdan and Dawn enter.

"I'm going to start my chores." Morgan mutters glumly. "You shouldn't keep my sister waiting." He stalks off, head low. I feel really bad for him... Chrom was pretty harsh speaking to him. But I have my own problems to worry about. Lucina's going to have my head. I keep my head down as I walk to her tent, fully aware I'm going to get yelled at.

I deserve it, I guess. I can't really argue about that.

I stop in front of her tent, and give a nervous swallow before weakly calling out, "Lucina?"

"Come in." I flinch at the icy tone of her voice. Nervously, I walk in. Her gaze pierces me the moment I enter. Neither of us speak.

Finally, I mumble, "You're pretty mad, huh?"

"'Pretty mad' doesn't quite cover it." Lucina says in a low voice. "I would say 'livid is a better word here." She stands up, flying into a rage. "I can't believe you! You went out without your rapier, and had the whole camp in an uproar! Do you have any sense at all?! I guess in the future, humans are born without any intelligence. Or maybe that's just you." She spits, blue eyes flashing like lightning. "I'm trying to keep you alive, but you seem determined to kill yourself. You need to start learning how to survive, Marth, instead of being a pampered child who doesn't think about anyone but herself. Tell me, Marth. Are you really this oblivious to danger? If so, you have no place on a battlefield."

"I'm sorry." I whisper, biting my lip to stop the tears gathering in my eyes.

"'Sorry' doesn't bring back the dead, Marth." The way she speaks my name...it sounds like a curse. My red hair hangs in my eyes as I lower my head, unable to look at Lucina. "No one died this time, but that's seldom the case. If you can't see that, you have no right to claim royal blood in your veins, and certainly no right to hold the name 'Marth.'"

My jaw hangs open as her remark hits me like a slap. Actually, it hits more like a bolt of Thoron to the chest. Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I hate myself for crying in front of her. Lucina turns away.

"There's a basket of clothes to be mended over there. Get started." With that, she leaves, cape whipping behind her. I stand for a moment before dropping to my knees, sobbing, and hating the tears that flow from my grey eyes.

I guess it's worth mentioning. On top of everything else, I have no idea how to sew.

* * *

 **Hey! I apologize for the long wait, but the good news is, I am now out of school! I will be updating more frequently (I hope.)**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

 **-EBC**


	9. Chapter 9

I'm still sobbing a minute later when I hear someone enter the tent. Great. Now Lucina gets to confirm that I'm nothing but a useless child who has no place here. But when I look up, it's not Lucina I see.

It's a woman with long pink hair, dressed in the armor I've seen wyvern riders wear. It's not as embarrassing as getting caught crying by Lucina, but still fairly humiliating to be caught by a stranger. The woman kneels down in front of me, and speaks quietly. "My name is Cherche." She says gently. "You're Marth, correct?"

"Yeah." I mumble, rubbing my puffy eyes with my hands.

"I was sent to supervise you. But...something's bothering you, something more than getting punished. What's wrong?" The way Cherche speaks reminds me of my mom, which makes me cry harder. I feel so alone.

"I haven't been able to do anything right the whole time I've been here! I'm horrible at fighting, I'm weak, I left my sword behind..." I have to stop to regain breath between my hiccuping sobs. "I'm nothing but a disappointment to Lucina. She was right. I don't deserve to be royalty. And I definitely don't deserve to have the name Marth! I'm so homesick, and I don't even know how to sew!"

Cherche is quiet for a moment, before looking me in the eyes. "Marth, are you not fourteen? You're young to be out here. You have almost no experience prior. How is it your fault you don't know how to fight? You are _not_ a disappointment - quite the contrary, actually. You can use your sword, even if you aren't perfect at it. Yes, you made a few foolish mistakes - but so has everyone here. For example, Nowi lit half the camp on fire when she fell asleep holding her Dragonstone. And Lucina herself, along with Morgan, once caused such a ruckus over a roach that Chrom thought Risen were attacking! And Chrom...well, before he was married to Hidenori, he walked in on her in the woman's bathing tent!" She lets out a soft chuckle at the thought. Her face turns more serious as she looks back to me. "What Lucina said was overly harsh and cruel. This is probably the only time I will ever say this, but don't listen to her."

I sigh. "I still feel so out of place here."

"Well, Marth, to be fair, you are. You come from a future most of us can't even imagine. And being homesick is natural - I think we all have gotten homesick at one point or another. You will get better, though. You will learn to be stronger. Your skills will get sharper. And this will pass, Marth." Cherche's voice is soft, but carries a firm message. I start to feel a little better at the thought that someday, I will be stronger.

"Thank you." I whisper, the tears stopping.

The pink haired woman smiles gently. "Now, you mentioned you don't know how to sew. I can teach you." She slides a garment towards me, and I place it on my lap. Cherche hands me a needle and some thread. "Alright, this is how you thread a needle." Guiding my hands, she assists me in getting the thread in the needle, which takes a few tries. She shows me how to get it fully threaded, and how to tie the knot. Then she demonstrates how to get a stitch going in the cloth. My stitches are uneven at first, but progressively get a little bit neater. It's actually pretty soothing, the repetitive motion of the needle through the fabric. Once I've repaired the rip, she shows me how to tie it off, before beginning the process with another rip.

"There...you're getting the hang of this." Cherche praises, eyes shining. "Soon you'll be finished."

"This is pretty relaxing, actually." I say quietly. "It makes me feel pretty calm."

"I love to sew and cook. I serve House Virion for a living. Somehow, doing simple things like chores makes me feel more fulfilled in life." Cherche says, her face happy. "Of course, I love my adorable Minerva more!"

"Minerva?" I question, accidentally hurting myself with the needle as I mess up a stitch. I suck my finger a bit to get rid of the drop of blood.

"My wyvern. She's such a sweet little thing. So helpful on the battlefield, too! You should come meet her after we're done here." Cherche tells me, eyes bright and sparkling at the thought.

"I don't think I'd be allowed to." I answer. Cherche shakes her head.

"I'm a senior Shepherd. As long as you're with me, it's fine." She says.

"Alright, then." The next half an hour I spend mending clothes. Finally, the last holes, tears, and rips are fixed. Setting it all back in the basket, I rise from my spot on the floor. Cherche stands a moment after me.

"Let's go meet Minerva." She grins as she speaks, and we exit. Walking through the camp, we arrive at the outskirts. A majestic wyvern is sleeping nearby. I'm torn between admiration and intimidation.

"Hello, Minerva!" Cherche greets, walking over. The wyvern opens her eyes, and approaches Cherche. The pink haired wyvern rider rubs her head. "How's my pretty girl?" She coos, gazing at her as though Minerva was a kitten, rather than a beast. Turning back towards me, she smiles. "Come see Minerva, Marth!"

"O-ok." I answer, coming to her side. Cautiously, I rub Minerva's head. She makes a soft, content noise.

Standing there, petting the beast, I feel strangely calm. Maybe everything will turn out ok after all.

* * *

 **I apologize for the delay! I was at camp.**

 **Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for the reviews, Guest and Foxy Lady! You have no idea how much it meant to me.**

 **How are y'all liking the story so far? I'm trying my hardest to write well, avoid cliches, and especially avoiding making Marth a Mary-Sue.**

 **-EBC**


	10. Chapter 10

I'm walking back to the tent where I sleep when I hear someone singing. Whoever it is, their voice is astounding. I know I shouldn't risk getting in anymore trouble, but I have to see who's singing.

In a clearing, a young woman is dancing and singing. It's absolutely mesmerizing. I wish I could dance as well as her! I love dancing. The woman twirls, eyes closed, and continues her song. I stand openmouthed, unable to pull myself away.

The woman finishes her song, and holds a final pose. She opens her eyes, and suddenly shrieks as she sees me. Blushing red, she fidgets, looking down. "H-how long were you watching?"

"Only a minute or two." I reply. "Your voice is beautiful, and so is your dancing!"

She shakes her head, looking upset. "No, I don't dance well. And I sound like an old frog."

"You do not!" I insist. "What's your name?"

"I'm Olivia." She says softly, and I stifle a gasp. This is the famous Olivia? The one who started the style of Oliviarian dancing? I've _got_ to learn from her!

"Olivia, can you show me how to dance like you?" I ask excitedly. "I love dancing!"

"I don't think I'd be a very good teacher." Olivia whispers.

"Please?" I nearly beg. The pink haired dancer thinks for a moment.

"I...I can try." She says softly. I grin, bouncing on my feet.

"Thank you, thank you!" I exclaim.

"Umm...alright. You have to be light on your feet." Olivia demonstrates a few steps, ending in a twirl. I try and mimic, seeing the world spin as I twirl. Olivia gives a nod of approval. "Good...do you dance often?"

"I _love_ dancing!" I exclaim. "I dance all the time back home." The dancer shows a few more steps, fluidly moving from position to position.

"Imagine yourself as water." She says softly. "You are fast, fluid, and not bound to one form." I copy her moves, imagining myself like a stream.

As we dance there in the moonlight, I think about something. Both swordplay and dancing need you to be fast, and easily moving. What if I could combine dancing to swordfighting? Maybe I could actually be good at it them!

I'm going to practice, and I'm going to impress Lucina. I'll make her see she was wrong about me.

After a while, we stop. "It's pretty late." Olivia says. "We should probably go back to camp. I enjoyed dancing with you, umm...sorry, what's your name?"

"I'm Marth." I say with a smile. "Thanks for teaching me, Olivia."

* * *

The next morning, I wait for Lucina in the training ground, rapier at the ready. I've been up early practicing - in the line of sight of a few senior Shepherds who were also early risers. I'm going to impress Lucina. I have to.

I can't fail her again.

My mentor steps into the training area, her gaze cool as she observes me. I refuse to flinch at the ice in her gaze. Even though I'm tired, I feel strangely excited. Lucina draws Falchion, not saying a word. I don't give her the chance to strike first - I lunge forwards, my rapier slashing the air. She blocks, but there's a bit of surprise in her eyes. Good.

Lucina tries to thrust upward to knock my blade out of my hands. Before she can, I do a neat, quick twirl, and hit her blade. Her grip almost loosens, but she recovers quickly. Narrowing her eyes, she brings up her sword. My blade is knocked out of my hands, but before I can fully drop it, I catch it. I block the strike she brings down. Again, the shock on her face makes me feel a quick flash of triumph.

It's a brief test of endurance - Lucina is bringing down her blade with everything she has, and I'm holding out in a block. Tensing up, I spring back suddenly, bringing my sword with me. Lucina lunges forwards, and I barely dodge.

We keep striking and blocking. Sweat drips down my forehead, making my hair stick to my face, damp. I try and quickly get it out of my eyes, but the brief moment of opportunity is all she needs. My rapier goes flying out of my hand, landing in the dust.

Lucina and I hold each other's gaze as we breathe heavily. Finally, she sheathes Falchion. We stare down each other in a moment of silence.

"You need to put back your hair before you fight." Lucina finally says. I mutely nod. She shifts a moment more, before lowering her head. "Your fighting was much better today than I've ever seen before from you. If you fought like that in battle, you could be a force to be reckoned with, after more practice." She sighs.

"Marth...I said some things yesterday that I shouldn't have. Yes, you were irresponsible. Yes, it was incredibly foolish. But...I...I shouldn't have said you don't deserve your name. I myself took that name, but did I have any more right to than you? I don't think I do. We come from very different times - mine was a time of destruction and war. Yours is almost the complete opposite. I've been judging you based too much on my time's standards. For you...someone who's never even held a sword before to make this much progress...it's astounding." She swallows, and looks me in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Marth."

I'm stunned. Lucina's apologizing? To me?

I faintly smile. "I forgive you, Lucina. And I apologize too for the trouble I caused."

Lucina dips her head with a smile. "Apology accepted."

We stand there a moment more in the now cleared air, when someone runs towards us. It's Dawn!

"I hate to break up this little moment, but grab your swords. The neighboring town is under attack!"

* * *

 **Hey guys!**

 **So I noticed that my writing of Lucina was getting a lot of hate, and I want to clarify.**

 **Lucina has no idea how to deal with someone like Marth. To her, Marth really would seem like a clueless child. She's never dealt with war, death, or fighting. Lucina comes from a background of all of those, however. She can't understand _not_ dealing with it. But I tried to have her realize she was being overly harsh, which is why she apologized.**

 **I hope you're enjoying! Thank you for your reviews!**

 **-EBC**


	11. Chapter 11

Lucina straightens at once, again alert. "Has the rest of the army been alerted?" She asks, eyes sharp as though already mentally preparing herself for the conflict. How does she do it? From one battle to the next, she's so calm. Actually...calm's not quite the word I'm searching for. Perhaps resigned is more fitting. Resigned to a life of fighting for everything, because your very future depends on it.

Once again, I am grateful to live in a time of peace. A time where Exalts are not expected to put their lives on the line, leading troops fearlessly against hostile masses.

"Yes. They're already on their way. Hurry." Dawn responds before turning and running towards the town. Lucina glances my way.

"Marth. Are you ready to use what you showed me in real combat?" She asks seriously. I swallow nervously. Because I'm not ready. I don't think I'll ever be ready. I still feel terror over the fact I...I've killed a man now. But this is my trial, isn't it? I have to.

I don't think anyone would ever truly be ready for this, though.

I grab my sword. "Yes. I'm ready." I manage, straightening as Lucina did. I will stand tall and fight for my people. Even if they're long dead in my time.

It's not the first time I've cared so strongly about someone dead, anyway. And no, I'm not going to talk about it. I can't even bring myself to truly accept it...

Lucina and I charge after Dawn, cutting through grass to the town. The stench of smoke hits my nostrils, making me gag. A house is on fire, likely from a fire tome. Who's attacking, anyway? More ruffians? I'm pretty sick of ruffians. Stupid destructive people.

Wait. These creatures are way too horrifying to be human. These are Risen!

Lucina rushes past me, throwing herself into the fray. I spot Noire fighting alone against a Risen Cavalier, arrows flying through the air as she yells, shaking badly. I dash forward to help her, rapier in hand, reflecting fire from the burning house in its steel. Backing her up, I wait for her to fire an arrow before lunging in with a slash. The Risen is struck down.

Yeah, I don't feel nearly as bad about this than I do about killing an actual person. Even as the Cavalier falls, another Risen - a Mercenary - charges us. It goes for the defenseless Noire, who has no way of defending herself from such a close range. The archer shrieks in pain as the blade strikes her shoulder, quivering in fear. My blood practically boils in fury. I may not know Noire well, but some soulless freak shouldn't attack someone defenseless! When the Mercenary raises its blade again, I spring in, heart pounding, and block with my rapier. "Don't even THINK about it!" I yell as steel meets steel.

My blocking gives Noire time to get back to a range she can fight from. Something's changed in her timid, sniveling face. Absolute fury blazes on it as she clutches her bow so tightly, I'm sure her knuckles must be a snowy white. "BLOOD AND THUNDER!" She roars in a terrifying voice, a maniacal light in her eyes as she releases the bow string. The arrow soars past, striking the enemy hard. It drops at once. The terrifying look passes, and she's once again sickly pale. "So tired..." She murmurs, more to herself than to me. Noting my surprise at her strange shift in personality, she sighs. "M-my talisman...Mother made it so I wouldn't be so weak. It...it takes over sometimes."

"Who's your mother?" I ask as we catch our breath.

"T-Tharja." Noire says softly, wincing at the name.

Noire is _Tharja's_ child? They're nothing alike! I've only seen Tharja a few times at a distance, and she scares me. She always seems to be muttering under her breath - curses, no doubt - and watching Hidenori in a strange, stalkerish way. Noire notices my expression. "It's the truth. I...I'm an archer, but I'm also good with dark magic." She mumbles, looking intently at her boots like they're the most interesting thing she's ever seen. "My father is Stahl. I look more like him than I do her."

I'm about to reply when a scream sounds from nearby. A village maiden is cowering near the burning building, shrieking as a Risen Knight comes closer and closer. Another Risen is heading towards us, a Mage. Noire glances at me and shudders. "G-go help that woman! I can manage...I think..."

I take a deep breath and nod. I charge at the Knight, sword at the ready. My sword bounces off its armor harmlessly, but it gets the Risen to turn towards me. Good. The maiden flees with a scream, running off into the distance.

So I helped her. Now how do I kill this creep?

The Knight charges me, piercing my shoulder with a lance. In case you don't know how it feels to be stabbed in the shoulder with a lance, let me inform you: It really, really HURTS! I give a scream of pain, crimson blood welling up through my shirt. It stabs again, the pain increasing with the blood. Staggering back, I swing my blade. It hits through a gap in the armor. The Knight hisses, and throws a javelin at me. It hits me _hard,_ making me flying backwards into the flaming house.

Dear Naga, fire also REALLY hurts! I fly through it, slamming against the charred remains of the wall. I gasp in pain, my skin burned. The smell of smoke invades my nostrils full on, making me gag. The room is swimming. I think I have a concussion. And possibly a broken rib. I cough from the smoke, blood coming out. The Knight isn't finished, however. It charges again and stabs with the lance, which is stained red with my own blood. I'm in so much pain. I feel so sick...

"Naga help me!" I scream. Screaming doesn't really help my broken rib, though, making me gasp in pain. So much red...have I ever seen this much before? Once. No. I don't want to remember-

The Knight raises its lance one more time. One more time and I'm done, I guess. I want to say something poetic - something memorable - but what I manage is hardly that. "Oh, crap."

As I'm about to be killed with those two words as the last thing I'd ever say, the Knight is suddenly blasted by a bolt of lightning magic. Someone picks me up. Though my vision is blurry, I think I see Hidenori and Chrom.

"Can someone get me a healer? That'd be nice." I mumble, but who knows if the words are intelligible. As my vision goes black, I think I hear a man's voice in my head, soft and quiet, but maybe that's just the concussion.

 _"Stay with them, Marth. Your trial is not yet over. I believe in you."_

* * *

 ***emerges from a sea of textbooks, screaming* I LIVE!**

 **I apologize for the delay! School is killing me, and I'm in desperate need of ideas for this story! I would totally love it if you guys offered up some suggestions with how you'd like this story to go. The more you give me, the more inspired I can get, the more updates! It's a win win! Keep in mind I can't use all suggestions, but please, tell me what you're interested in seeing! PM me, review, just let me know.**

 ***is sucked back into sea of textbooks***

 **-EBC**


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